Belu had dropped into a fighting stance as soon as the second of silence had concluded, crouching with his armored limb held forward like the prow of some ancient ship. Set upon by a machine rather than an opponent of flesh and blood, he nevertheless endeavored to block the gunshots crackling through the air to stab through some vital piece of machinery.
Bleeding from several minor wounds that quickly scabbed over thanks to his adrenapigment, Belu engaged Prisca in a lightning exchange between monorapier and mechacaestus. His armored limb rattled as he struggled to contest a strength driven by reactor and hydraulics, the humming point of his sword seeking a weak point. At last the storm parted, and as Belu leapt clear of the Console's mech it was clear the vile machine had been compromised, the socket of its left leg struggling against a crippling thrust, one caestus smashed to uselessness against the diamond-hard spike of Belu's gauntlet.